Bipolar Addict on a Mission towards GROWTH

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Trying to Date

I’ve decided to try and date. I’ve never been very good at it. My last boyfriend was the guy who came to repair my airstream. I don’t get out much.

So I set up a match.com account. I loaded some pictures, what few there are of me out there in the world, being a hermit and all. I wrote up a little bio, answered some questions and hit publish. And now I’m out there. Dating.

It’s been two days and it’s making me crazy. Maybe because I just set up my account the site put me in front of a bunch of guys. I thought I was so popular! So many likes! Emails! I was blowing up! 87 likes right off the bat!

And now? Now I feel like I’m trolling through the dirty, stinky, swamp of men, spying on them creeper status. Trying to “like” the ones that look somewhat normal. I even sent a few emails out. No one is “liking” me, except very old men or portly fellows. Neither of which I’m interested in.

I loaded more pictures. I edited my bio. I answered more questions. I do have two dates on the books so that’s good since it’s only been about 36 hours. I’ve been checking my account constantly and it’s almost 5 in the morning. I need to keep all this in perspective.

I have no idea what my first date will be like. I’m going to think of it like pancakes. You usually have to toss the first one. I didn’t notice that date numero uno wants kids. I don’t, really. Sometimes I do when I panic about being too old to have any. And then I think about what a train wreck I am, how could I ever take care of a baby?

Ok. My first date is just coffee. But eesh, it’s going to feel like a job interview. Maybe I should drink some tequila before I go. I thought about canceling because of the baby thing but pancakes. Just need to remember pancakes. And he’s a super cute lawyer. Supposedly.

Match.com rates you somehow with some magic algorithm. I have a 100% match. Haven’t seen anyone else higher than a 95%. So 100% and I are chatting and he asks me to tell him a story from my past.

My palms start sweating. My eyes start darting frantically around. A story? From my past? All of my stories involve debauchery and shenanigans. What the hell would I tell him that won’t send him running?

So I tell him about hitchhiking from Flagstaff to Reno. No drugs involved in that. Then I tell him about moving out west all by myself at 17 and how I locked my keys in the car in downtown St. Louis, at midnight. And then I wrote, and deleted, and wrote about having bipolar.

I thought it might help explain some of the crazy stories I just told. And I’m trying to be more open about it. Come out of the closet more about having bipolar. Help put a face to an illness.

I had an old friend I hadn’t seen in years that I was texting with. He always had a crush on me and we were just texting, catching up. We lived in different states now. One day during our text conversation I tell him that I had bipolar. He never wrote back. Nothing. Like he got hit by a bus or something. Gone. I didn’t write back either. It hurt.

I thought I’d tell 100% just to be honest, up front. I told him that maybe it’s because I should be asleep but I felt like sharing. He said it probably wasn’t easy for me to share that. He said we should both go to sleep. I said good night. He wrote me back a few minutes later asking what color my hair is. Was it blonde? Or was it brown? Or was it red? His profile showed “online” for quite a bit longer. He wasn’t that cute anyways. I just figured since he was a 100% match, I should give it a try.

I’m learning. I can’t check my account constantly. This is the old addict in me. I just checked it. One guy, a little too young for me and works in the oil fields wrote me an email. I’ll need to come up with some guidelines around my use of this “tool”. Like only checking a few times a day.

No trolling creeper status. I like guys approaching me. I don’t like to be the one that makes the first contact.

I guess I’m old fashioned. But I also don’t want to seem desperate. Writing my emails tonight and waiting with baited breath for a response does not resonate well with me. One guy I emailed is “online” now. He surely got my email. He didn’t write back.

I’m going to have to toughen up. Get thicker skin. And I need to remember that this should be, or could be, fun. It’s all up to me how I react.

Give it time. Let it be. What will be, will be. I’ll be right back. I’m going to check my account.